Cactus puns needed · 5:59pm Jan 4th, 2017

The general consensus seems to be that 2016 was a rather difficult year. It was particularly brutal on my poor cactus.

It looks kind of pitiful, but trust me; I'm thrilled we even made it this far.

This plant--though small, crooked, and somewhat collapsing in on itself--is the single most resilient organism I have ever encountered. Its endurance and patience was apparent to me from the very first moment we met. A gift from my mother, it valiantly endured a hundred-mile move in order to accompany me to college, riding calmly in my cupholder as we bounced along the bumpy roads towards our first great adventure. Upon our arrival, it took up a position on my windowsill, where it could see the comings-and-goings of both the inside and outside worlds.

Or it could, if I ever remembered to open the blinds.

Even with only tiny slivers of sunlight cast upon its prickly form, this cactus has survived. It has endured weeks upon weeks of drought, wherein my attention was torn in so many directions that at the end of the day, none was left for the tiny, unassuming plant upon the sill. Undaunted, the cactus was content to sit and chill.

In the last twelve months, I have disrupted my cactus' peaceful position four or five times: two of which involved dirt strewn all across my floor. Since the windowsill is right behind my desk, I sometimes miscalculate how far back I can recline in my chair. I lean too far, the chair topples over, and I crash unceremoniously into the teacup by the window.

The face of patience.

My cactus has endured troubles beyond mere neglect and incompetence, though. It entered 2016 with a ring of white fuzzy spots near its base--spots I would later discover were a parasite that was eating my cactus alive. Despite the fact that the life was literally being sucked out of the poor plant, it weathered the ordeal without complaint, and bravely tolerated my attempts to rid it of the infestation. From carefully dabbing increasingly potent alcohol concoctions onto the pests, to painstakingly pulling them off one by one with tweezers, to giving the cactus a bath--it silently observed my attempts to save its life.

Side note: I bathed a cactus? wtf even was this year

Today, it no longer suffers from a long-tailed mealybug infestation. The ordeal has left it slightly crippled, and it relies on a hairpin brace for support, but it survived 2016.

Soaking up some negative ions, or whatever it is this salt lamp's supposed to do.

As you can see, there is no cactus more worthy or deserving of a name than this one. I was thinking about potential names in my sleep the other night, and managed to come up with a clever, punny one that I was quite satisfied with. Now that I am awake, of course, all trace of the name has vanished. All I can remember is that it was Mister (?????) .

Seeking to compensate for my slumbering self's utter incompetence, I've tried to come up with an alternative name for my noble cactus. The best thing I can think of is Beneprick Cumberscratch. This fandom is extremely talented when it comes to name punnage, so I'm very eager to hear if anyone has any ideas. Suggestions?